


Kept Near

by EternalEclipse



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Re: the Hōgyoku, M/M, No one dies!, Non-Consensual Body Modification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalEclipse/pseuds/EternalEclipse
Summary: Somewhere as spooky as Karakura may have been an excellent post for someone like Kuchiki Rukia, whose potential far outstripped her rank. But why would the Seireitei believe an unseated officer could keep safe an area where Captains had disappeared? Thus, Ichimaru Gin draws the assignment instead, as one of the Captains with the least seniority. It doesn’t take long for Gin to fall to Ichigo’s charms, and get involved in all the intrigue that surrounds him.
Relationships: Ichimaru Gin/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 92
Collections: GinIchi Day 2020





	Kept Near

Despite the cramped nature of fitting someone as tall as Gin into a closet full of clothes, Gin didn’t really mind sleeping in Ichigo’s closet. The boy went cherry-red whenever he made a ‘coming out of the closet’ joke, and the nest he’d made of it was more comfortable than Rukongai ever was. Just had to make sure Ichigo didn't look too closely at what he'd taken to make it.

But Gin didn’t really need to sleep, not as a nearly-Plus soul without a body in the Transient World. Sometimes he tried anyway, but most nights he kept watch. Especially nights like these, when Urahara Kisuke’s dampened reiatsu wandered too near for his comfort, or when Aizen’s camera flies meant he had to put on a face.

His plans had been tossed up in the air the moment he met Kurosaki Ichigo. Before, Aizen’s distraction with the boy had been convenient for sneaking out unnoticed for short periods of time. And, well, maybe the boy was an idealist, but he wasn’t entirely a blind idealist like most of the Shinigami, and that counted for a little. Maybe it might even save him.

The thing about Ichigo was that he reminded Gin of times when he had the ability to be _better_. Times before Aizen, when he’d been convinced he could keep away from the Seireitei and still keep Rangiku safe. Times when they were both whole. And that was a dangerous thing.

Urahara’s reiatsu blurred insistently closer, and he was faced with the decision: fight, flight, or talk. Ichigo’s bright orange halo mixed with Rangiku’s memory in his peripheral, and he wondered when he’d gotten so attached.

He was still wondering when Urahara settled on the rooftop next door, and his eyes boring holes in Gin’s skull, like that would reveal Aizen’s plans. The thought made Gin chuckle, breaking the midnight silence.

“Captain Ichimaru. I wasn’t aware that Karakura ranked a Captain these days.” Urahara’s voice was mild and smooth as water.

Gin turned, face curling into a smirk. He was going to play that game. “When one a’ yer Captains disappears around th’ same spot as the Jureichi, how could the Captain Commander justify sending out an unseated?”

“If he’s that concerned, then surely he would send someone more experienced?”

“Ye’ve got th’ nerve to ask that, of all people?” Gin needled back, amused when Urahara didn’t flinch.

They sat in silence, regarding each other, for some minutes after that. Then a hollow roared in the distance, and Urahara disappeared, presumably to take care of it. Didn’t want to draw Soul Society’s ire if Gin wasn’t going to bring it on them, he supposed.

Gin turned back to Ichigo. Clearly Urahara was also invested in the kid, if he wasn’t just calling Soul Society on him anyway, to get at Aizen. That kid was really going to need someone in his corner. But could Gin really be that person?

Nah. Not for long, anyway.

* * *

When Gin gets his new orders, they don’t say anything about Ichigo. His first thought is that that’s good, that he doesn’t have to betray the human just yet. His second is fumbling panic. Aizen has never hid his interest in Ichigo, and must know by now exactly where Gin was staying. Why wouldn’t his orders include Ichigo, even if it was to try to sway him to Aizen’s side?

In the end, he has no answers. He does, however, have marching orders. He’s supposed to get Urahara’s hōgyoku. Right. And he’ll just pick up dust from Hueco Mundo’s moon while he’s at it.

In the end, though, does he really have an option?

It’s futile, but he does take two days to prepare. He pilfers a magazine to make sure he’s doing it right, before stealing one of Ichigo’s sister’s dresses that was set aside for being too long on them, shaving his legs, and wandering in to a mall to obscure his features with makeup and find a wig. Then he waits for schools to let out, and wanders off in the direction of the Shoten, looking for all the world like a teenage human girl.

The Shoten is empty when he arrives, though there’s a sign marking it open for business. He hesitates, noting the bell on the door and weighing his odds. Urahara probably knew he was there, but there were still fictions to be maintained. He opened the door anyway, and no one came. Fine.

The displays were all pristine, though the first candy bar he picked up had expired years ago. He wandered though, taking in the layout. No use, he was going to have to get further in. He listened at the door that looked like it led further inside, before trying to open it.

A young girl blinked up at him, head tilted. “Customer-san? You can’t come back here,” she said.

Gin smiled down at her, tamping down on his spiking frustration. “I’m sorry, but there wasn’t anyone who could ring me up at the register.”

The girl tilts her head. “But Kisuke-san is right there?”

Gin twisted around, only to meet Urahara Kisuke’s amused gaze. _Busted._ Well. It wasn’t as if this sacrificial farce wasn’t more for Aizen’s benefit than Urahara’s.

“Did you need help choosing things, Customer-san?” Urahara asked.

Gin’s forced smile softened slightly when he saw the strawberry candies on the shelf next to Urahara. Well, he wasn’t dead yet. Might as well get something fun out of this, if he wasn’t going to be useful. He picked up enough for Ichigo’s sisters too, as an apology for stealing their clothes. Even Rukon rats had rules, when they could.

And—there. A familiar shape glittered on the shelf behind Urahara. Gin refused to look more closely, but that had to be a hōgyoku.

“Customer-san?”

Gin smiled lazily at Urahara, and walked out of the store, strawberry candy in hand. He heard Urahara chuckle at his back. Fair enough, he’d earned that much.

* * *

Of course, things were never going to end there.

Sure, Ichigo’s face when Gin gave him the candies was too funny for words. The boy was charming, but not like Aizen, more in a way that made Gin want to keep teasing him. He was also a distraction Gin wasn’t sure he could afford.

He still made a second attempt on the hōgyoku that night. Not much of one, he was sure, lacking in spiritual power as he still was. Although if he had to even try to go shikai, he was fucked anyway, so that could have been worse.

Urahara was waiting for him when he got there, hōgyoku in hand. Of course he was. The bell wasn’t on the door anymore though, so Gin just walked in.

“What’s this about then?”

A long moment of silence carried an electric current through it, and then—“What are Aizen’s intentions with Kurosaki Ichigo?”

Gin smirked. “What are Aizen’s intentions with anything?”

Urahara’s face did something. “And what are yours?”

“And what makes ya think I have my own?”

“You would give him to Aizen then, if he asked.”

“There are things more important than one human.” The ‘even if I like him’ remained unsaid, though they both heard it. Gin held back a wince.

“Things like this?” Urahara tossed the hōgyoku up in the air and catching it, like some kind of toy. Searching for a reaction, most likely.

Was that—did Urahara think that Ichigo was more important than the eldritch soul battery for taking down Aizen? That kid? “What are ya really asking?” Gin pushed.

“You haven’t tried to kill me for it yet. Not that you could, like that. Smart of you not to try, even if it was stupid of you to come anyway, so maybe you are just that loyal to Aizen, even if he clearly doesn’t care about you.” Urahara monologued, not even looking at Gin. The hōgyoku glittered in the moonlight when he held it up to catch the beams. “So, are you smart enough to see through Aizen, or are you really that—blindly devoted?”

“He can probably see this, so I don’t get yer point.”

“Do you want to die here, then? Just so he can see you died loyal? Because that can be arranged.” A blade was at Gin’s throat. His eyes slid to the side, and there was the girl from earlier. When had she—

“Now you can truly claim you were coerced!” Urahara exclaimed. “Come in, come in. It would be better to discuss beyond prying ears.”

* * *

Gin spent that night keeping watch at Ichigo’s window, but his gaze was not directed at the greater world. Ichigo’s hair fanned out along his pillow, longer than it looked once it was styled into his signature spikes. His eyebrows were furrowed with some stress even during the deepest parts of his sleep cycle.

The hōgyoku was well-hidden inside his sword for now. He couldn’t keep it there for long, lest it change him, but it was the best way to get it out of Urahara’s Shoten. He knew what he had to do. Urahara had convinced him that it would hamper Aizen significantly. And yet—

Gin pulled the curtains shut and used what reiatsu he’d regained to make sure that neither Aizen nor Urahara were watching.

If he shoved this hōgyoku into Ichigo, then Ichigo would be eventually powerlessly safe from the spiritual world, and Aizen in particular; Aizen would be inconvenienced by this hōgyoku being taken out of the game permanently; and he’d be able to keep Ichigo safe and close, because he’d have to stay at least long enough to make sure it took.

And yet, Gin didn’t want to. Messing with Ichigo’s soul in any way that resembled how Aizen messed with Rangiku’s, strangling his potential like hers—it felt wrong. Dirty. He was no stranger to getting his hands dirty, he had no real future to look forward to, but Ichigo was so like her sometimes, a little sun that made the world better just for being in it. It was hard not to get caught up in it.

He’d even considered, as he’d taken it, inducing spiritual awareness in one of the other Kurosakis and implanting it in them, just to keep Ichigo safe. He hadn’t spent time with them, so they couldn’t matter as much.

But Ichigo would never forgive him for that trespass, even if he was the kind to forgive Gin for such a trespass that only affected _him._

Or maybe Gin was projecting.

Not that it mattered much. Gin took out the hōgyoku and squinted at it for a long minute. It was nearly weightless for all its power, which pulsed like the soul it once was. And then he pushed it into Ichigo’s soul.

It was quick and easy. Ichigo didn’t even wake up. And Gin was left, staring at the boy he’d condemned with the bits of heart in his throat that he’d thought he’d long since excised.

There was work still to be done. He had to continue deceiving Aizen. He was going to have to deal with Ichigo once the hōgyoku started to affect him. He was even going to have to keep deceiving Soul Society. Mostly old hat, but the stakes were higher than ever.

For now, though, he kept watch. He’d keep watch as long as Ichigo would let him. This wouldn’t be the end of Aizen, not yet, so he couldn’t rest, and there was only more pain to come. But, selfishly, he hoped Ichigo would forgive him.

The next day, Gin teased Ichigo worse than he ever had before. It was a wonder that the boy had enough blood to carry air to his limbs with how much of it concentrated in his face at all times. When Gin contrived an excuse to kiss him on the cheek, he wasn’t entirely sure that Ichigo’s body was managing all that well. He even read a Shakespeare sonnet out just so Ichigo could sputter at him in outrage until he could pluck up the courage to shut him up with his lips. He could keep up this fun for now, allow himself the little luxury of being warm and close to a sun that would never be able to burn him. Gin had never claimed to be unselfish.


End file.
